Secrets and Sources
by anime-sparkle-party
Summary: Government agents Arthur and Francis are on a top case, but as they follow lead after lead, they eventually get themselves into more than they bargained for. Local thug group the Vargas Brothers are not ones to be messed with and no one likes to get on the wrong side of an American punk, but in war the craziest things can happen and love spawns in the most unlikely of places.
1. Chapter 1

Hi! So this is my first fan fic that's not a one-shot and it's also completely different to what I normally write, it's darker, and the nations are seen as humans this time, not actually countries, so please bear with me if it sounds a little unnatural at the start! i plan to make the chapters longer later too :) Also, this is not based on any particular war, but parts may seem loosely based on WW2 if you're into history (hey, if you want you could think of it as a future war maybe?) because I'm more interested in writing, not making sure all my facts are historically correct and such :D Anyway I hope you enjoy it and please feel free to leave any comments (good or bad) in a review, anything at all helps A LOT! Thanks again,

~N.

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"Where the hell is he?" Arthur muttered under his breath as he watched yet another ten minutes pass by on his vintage, copper wrist watch. He had been waiting in this grimy hotel room for well over an hour waiting for his French contact to arrive with the vital information he needed for this case. He didn't want to give in, but unfortunately he felt no choice but to sit on the dirty bed sheets in the dimly lit room. He took off his dark green jacket and sat down on the rim of the wooden bed. How do people stay here? He wondered to himself as he shifted about for a more comfortable position. It wasn't unusual for the blasted French man to be late, often with no excuse other than,

"Ah but these beautiful English ladies, how could you ignore them, oui?"  
Easy to say the two agents did not get along. However, in such desperate times, one did not simply get a choice in who your closest sources were, and unfortunately for Arthur, this vulgar excuse of an agent had been paired up with him, a true gentleman, many a time before.  
"Mon Ami! You've been waiting for me, no?  
The French flung the door open, with no common curtesy such as a knock of course and smirked at the Englishman sitting on the bed. Ever extravagant, he was wearing his 'uniform' of a deep purple cape and red trousers and looked _ridiculous_, he'd be spotted a mile away! Not suitable for a government official agent at all.  
"Francis," Arthur sneered, "there are a number of things wrong with your entry, once again. One, I am not your friend, two I certainly was NOT waiting for you…in any way other than to collect information…and three, IS IT YOUR WISH THAT THE WHOLE OF LONDON KNOWS A TOP SECRET GOVERNMENT OFFICIAL MEETING POINT?!"  
"Shhh, Arthur!" He whispered, placing a finger to Arthur's lips "You can not just go around screaming such things so openly, you know. "  
Furious, Arthur jumped off the bed, not wanting to be any closer to the creep than necessary.  
"Well, we are not here to chit-chat, do you have the…information?" He looked around while saying it, even though he knew there was no one in the room. Hey, you never know who could be lurking in the bathtub (that's one story he did NOT want to recall)!  
"Oh, no."  
"W-WHAT?!" Arthur exclaimed, "I've been waiting here for OVER AN HOUR. And you DON'T EVEN HAVE THE INFORMATION? "  
"Oui, I do not." He said, getting off the bed to examine his hair in the dirty mirror on the far wall,  
"Why? WHAT have you been doing exactly for the past WEEK?" Arthur was livid, they really needed this file for the case, an IMPORTANT case that could help end the war, and Francis had the absurdity to come back without it, insult him and act like he'd actually been doing something.  
"O honhonhon… are you sure you want to know the det…"  
Arthur snapped the gun out of his inner pocket pointing it at the Frenchman's head.

_I'll kill him. He's useless towards the cause, were better off without this ridiculous fool. _He thought as his finger started to roll towards the trigger, but before he'd even got the pistol comfortably in his hand, Francis' own shiny black gun was pointing at him, with his eyes glaring, emotionless, straight.

"Do not forget, old friend. You are not the only one with a gun and training." He said flatly,his short gold ponytail falling over his shoulders.  
They stood there for many minutes, the atmosphere so tence yo. Could cut it with a knife, each with a gun to the other's head, staring into each other's eyes, waiting for the other to make the next move.

A defending roar came from outside the grungy hotel, quickly followed by a nearby explosion and the dark smell of smoke.  
"Oh merde!" sighed Francis, "come on, mon ami." And with a swift movement he had his gun back in his pocket and his arm around Arthur's waist, knocking out his pistol and dragging the struggling Brit under a table.  
"What the bloody hell do you think your doing?" Arthur protested, squirming indignantly behind the stronger man. He flashed him a smile that made Arthur want to hit him while continuing to hold him under the desk as nearby bombs shock the building. When they moved further away, now only echoes in the distance, he turned around to Arthur and said before he could threaten him once again,  
"Ah but we couldn't have _London's greatest spy_ hurt, could we?"  
"I'm not a spy, you wanker!" He snarled back while climbing out from the small space, "You're starting to sound just like that obnoxious American!"  
"But you're the one who likes to spy on him, oui?"

He laughed ridiculously again and Arthur contemplated getting his gun right back next to his head, _where it's meant to be_, but thought the better of it remembering that they were on a mission and didn't have any more time to waste,  
"Have you forgotten, Bonnefoy? This mission effects you, just as much as it effects me. You'd better start getting yourself together before…"  
"Speaking of this American, that is were I was told to go. Source said to 'go to the American' exactement." Francis stuttered.  
" Damn, not again." Arthur murmured under his breath. The kid was reliable, but unauthorized, if something was to go wrong, the whole agents department would be scrutinized for going with information picked up from some teen on the streets. Somehow though, they always ended up going to him.  
"I suppose we have no choice, then?"  
"Don't act like you can't wait to see him again!"  
"I don't much care for arrogant foreigners, surely that much you can pick up?"  
and with that, Arthur picked up his jacket from were it still lay, crumpled on the mattress and they left the hotel, on their way to meet the American.


	2. Chapter 2

Francis was shuffling awkwardly beside him, not use to this part of London. In the dark, dirty streets, parts devastated from bombings, it was becoming less and less the London he knew.  
"Even the worst parts of Paris aren't this dismal!" He whispered, looking around as if he thought a band of lurking cockney orphans were going to attack him from the dark.  
"Are you sure this is where he wants to meet?"  
"Quite certain," Arthur replied, it wasn't his preferred location to exchange with the sources either, but more because it was too spy-movie for him, he wasn't afraid like the _little girl_ he was escorting.

"However, doesn't it seem a little…strange that he'd pick somewhere like this?"

They looked at each other as they came to a street lamp. It blinked every few seconds, making the area appear even more alienated than before.  
"I'm sure he'll make his intentions and reasoning known when he gets here, anyhow."  
"Pisssssstttttt"  
"Ahhh! What was that?!" Squealed Francis as he jumped behind Arthur, shaking in fear.  
"PPPPIIIISSSSSSSTTTTTT"  
"Whose there?" Arthur asked the night, his own voice shaking more than he'd intended.  
"Over here." Said the owner of the hissing, they twirled around to look into the alley behind them, squinting until they saw the familiar figure of Alfred F Jones.  
"Alfred..?" Arthur asked,  
"Keep your voice down!" He hissed back before backing into the alley.  
The two agents slowly followed the young teen, still slightly surprised he'd been here the whole time. Like Francis, Alfred liked to make an entrance, he was never on time, this was indeed a first.  
"WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING?" Francis yelled once they were far enough from the main street that Alfred had stopped retreating.  
"DO YOU THINK I CAN JUST WALK ABOUT THESE PARTS? I FELL COMING HERE…"  
"Oh wouldn't want to rip those pretty pantalons, would we?" Arthur snickered, but Francis ignored him.  
" NOW YOU BETTER HAVE AN EXPLANATION OR…"  
"Oh shut up grand-pa" the kid said with his strong, arrogant American accent.  
"WHAT did you just call…"  
"Look man, I can't just be about in London anymore, they're after me, you're lucky I came to help you guys at all, now you better shut up already or else."  
Well that explains it, Arthur thought, looking up at the tall American, leaning against a wall. He noticed that his usually bright, psychedelic American clothes had been replaced with a more respectable tan suit (with an actual shirt even!) along with a brown jacket, laced with dark fur over it. Arthur thought it was a big improvement however, unfortunately he had not abandoned the horrible lolly habit. A black glove held the stick up to the corner of his mouth, while the other was casually placed in his right pocket and he insisted on sucking it while talking. A part of his mind wondered if there was more than just sugar in those things.  
"So why'd you call me out here anyway, dude?"  
And that absurd American slang he hated just as much as the lollies.  
"What, your governments fail ya again, huh?" He smirked, both Francis and Arthur knew he was secretly mocking their countries.  
"We'll we are obviously in a better position than you, Jones, if the Vargas brothers are looking for you." Arthur grinned back, wandering if he could even see it in the dark.  
On hearing their names, he leaned further down the wall, his eyes darting around quickly,  
"Don't say that!" He hissed, "They're not _looking_ for me! They think I'm back in the States!'  
" Oh? What was it you did hum?"Francis questioned,  
"Nothing! I didn't do nothing, okay?"  
"Spreading the lies, were we?" Francis ignored him, leaning in closer,  
"Attack them, maybe? Steal?" Francis' voice was full of judgement  
"NO! I ain't do that! I never do that type of thing, I only saw…"  
"Saw what? You know we only do business with those we can trust, Jones."  
Arthur knew were Francis was going with this, it was his specialty after all, getting the information from witnesses.  
"Lovino and…"  
He hesitated and as quickly as in the hotel this morning, Francis flipped out his gun, casually placing it in his pocket.  
Alfred's eyes darted to the top of the weapon, slightly sticking out of the ridiculous purple cape. Arthur doubted he'd come unprepared himself, but with the Vargas Brothers after him he hardly wanted to make a mess.  
"Alright dude," he sighed, lightly scuffing his boot against the gravel floor, "but you can't tell anyone, this stays between us three."  
They couldn't promise that, as Alfred well knew, but he continued anyway.  
"I was just going in there to leave off some…stuff but anyway there was no one about so I walked round the back and Lovino was in there with…Antonio Fernandez Carriedo."  
"Doing what?!" Arthur cried out, while Francis just started to laughing hysterically.  
"O honhonhonhon…mon ami, do you not understand?"  
Arthur glared at him, and then it hit him  
"They're TOGETHER?!" He almost fell over from the shock of it  
"Well I wouldn't think so any more…he's probably not even alive anymore…"  
"What?" Arthur could barely hear the usually noisy American and it made it even harder when Francis was laughing right in his ear, leaning on his shoulder.  
"Yeah well, I saw them and just about made it out with my life."  
"Oh, well how is it you people say? Wrong place, wrong time, oui."  
Arthur suddenly felt sorry for the teen. There was no way he could get back to America, and now he could hardly stay in London, but were could he go? He shook himself mentally, that wasn't his problem, after all. They were here on business.

"So you know anything about Yekaterina Braginskaya?" He asked softly  
"Brag…What the hell you going around saying that name?!" He hissed  
"No you fool, YEKATERINA. That name sound familiar? It's hardly common!"  
The American looked confused, gazing into the air as he thought about it,  
"How about Arlovskaya?" Francis asked and a light flashed behind Alfred's eyes,  
"Oh no, dude! You don't go messing with Arlovskaya, no way!"  
He started backing away from the agents, but Francis grabbed his shoulders slamming him into the wall,  
"What do you know about Arlovskaya?" He yelled in his French accent  
"Come on man, put me down! She's, she's an agent, she working with Braginskaya and she's a hell of a good shot, you know…she, she tortures people…don't mess with her, and her sister, she's just as crazy! That's all I know! Please!"  
"A woman…?" Well this was interesting twist, wait…"Why didn't you recognise her name the first time? How many people do you know whose name is Yekatrina? "  
"None." He replied as Francis let him fall.  
"So that's not the sister's name?"  
"The sister's..? Why you looking for her? No, I don't know her name."

Francis licked his lips, they had become cracked standing out in the cold night. They watched their breath form white clouds as they took in this new information.  
"So, it's a she."  
"And her name isn't Yekatrina…"  
The two agents looked at each other. Braginskaya had another sister.

Finally remembering their American informant, Arthur looked at him, shaking in the cold  
"Well where are you going now?" He asked sympathetically  
"I don't know, dude. Thinking about just lying low here for a while, so I need you guys to just leave me out of it until this…blows over or whatever."  
Biting his lip, he suddenly wondered where he was staying, he was only a teen, and he'd heard there might even be snow this week.

"You got a place to stay, Jones?"  
The normally confident face looked down replying something that overall meant no.  
"Here then, it wasn't what we were hoping for, but you deserve it. " and he shoved a bundle of notes into his fist.  
He knew Francis' eyes were on him, in his ears he could practically hear the jokes the Frenchman was making up in his vulgar brain, but overall he didn't want to see this kid get hurt. Well he wasn't really a kid anymore.

"Well good luck then, and thank you for cooperating, Mr Jones."

And with that he turned around with Francis at his heels, moving forward until he was under the still blinking street light and turned the corner to go home, feeling Alfred's stares once again, it was the first time he'd called him that.

_Mr Jones._


End file.
